Tuesday, July 21, 2020
Ken is one of the most decent people I have ever had the privilege of knowing, and I also had the great pleasure of working with him both in practice and at the college. He was an unfailingly kind and courteous colleague (and also dishearteningly talented) but my most vivid memories of Ken are of his sense of humour: I still picture walking into my office in the back room at the Animal Science building the day after his beloved Stamps had won the Grey Cup to find that someone had cut out of that morning's Sun (with surgical precision) and thoughtfully taped to my computer monitor a picture of Marcus Crandell in a heroic pose (our family bleeds green and gold). I assume that my screams of outrage were audible out in the clinic building since he soon sauntered by, although he initially denied any knowledge of the dastardly deed . . . . Ken thoughtfully surveying the scene of the three Wilhelm boys in various sized Batman costumes squirming and jostling for space in his front doorway Halloween and asking 'Beth didn't want to go as Batman, too?' Ken's glee in weighing his options for the lunch I invariably owed him the day after Labour Day for the last decade, when I would have lost yet another bet with him on the outcome of the Stamps-Esks game. It is a tribute to what a modest and thoughtful friend he was that although he always threatened, he never ordered lobster. What a gift to have known him. Our love and prayers are with the Smith family; we wish you strength and comfort.
